I was born in the month of May
by SeraphimeRising
Summary: Can there be a tomorrow if don't even have today? Warnings listed inside.


**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter nor do I make money.**

**Warning(s):/b angst, angst, and more angst - did I mention angst?; hurt/comfort; references to death; frank talk of suicide**

* * *

**_"I was born in the month of May..."_**

Can there be a tomorrow if don't even have today?

_O meu corasón che mando_  
_c' unha chave par' ó abrir,_  
_nin eu teño máis que darche,_  
_nín ti máis que me pedir._

_(Now my shuttered heart I send you,_  
_with the only master key._  
_There's no more for me to give you_  
_Nor for you to ask of me.)_

_-Rosalía del Castro_

His feet wouldn't move fast enough though he willed them to. They simply couldn't move any faster.

Too much blood, too much death covered the stone floors he had once trod as a carefree student. The rough stones were now slick with fluids that he didn't want to dwell on and cluttered with those who sacrificed it all.

The battle had long ended by the time he arrived with other fighters but something told him his own battle was just beginning. Every blond head he saw, he stopped to look closer. Hoping it wasn't him. Praying it wasn't him.

It just couldn't be him. Charlie's life would be over if he found him still with death. These past few months had almost been the death of him; knowing he was alive but there was nothing Charlie could do to protect him, to keep him safe.

He stopped at yet another body praying that it wasn't him.

But it wasn't the one he had come to care for. The one on certain days he could swear that he loved. The one that had shown up at the reserve late last summer, in the heat of an early June night moments before the rain started.

He had been so worn and pale: his eyes heavy and tired, his clothes dirty and torn. For a split second under the full moon that night, Charlie thought the figure approaching him was a ghost. No one alive could look that tired, be that worn, appear that...old. He had been mere seconds from sending the ghost on its way when the figure collapsed in front of him.

Only then did Charlie realize and understand that the figure lying still in front of him was an actual person. Scrambling to him, he fell to his knees as his rough hands grabbed the figure's face; his mind racing at the softness of the young man's skin. This wasn't a vagrant or a vagabond, this was someone like him - someone's son.

He leaned over to make sure the ghostly figure was still breathing, as cool rain drops began to cascade along his skin. Charlie hadn't realized that he had been holding his own breath until his lungs started to burn as he waited. Finally, he allowed the air to race from his chest when he felt foreign air brush along his cheek.

Looking back to the face and seeing no motion, he gathered the figure in his arms; surprised at the lightness he found there. No one should be this light.

But at that moment, he was thankful as the rain really started to let go. It allowed him to move faster, hold the thin body tighter. His feet stumbling, tripping going through the denser trees. Alternating between a loping gallop when the terrain was firmer and a careful tread when it was forgiving until he came to his little cabin.

He barreled through the door, narrowly missing it as it violently swung back.

Gently he laid the now shaking body onto his bed; thankful he had actually changed the sheets this morning. Even in the limited light of his cabin, he could finally see the beauty that laid quivering in front of him; lips blue, hair white, skin pale while Charlie found his mind wondering how pale the young man's eyes might be - if they be blue, green or grey.

As time slowed to a stop, he furiously tried to remove the soaking clothing; knowing that wet and cold killed one faster than one or the other. Only the white scar that zigged and zagged along an otherwise perfect chest stopped him from his course. His fingers in that moment lightly traced the horrific scar, his mind wandering to what monster could do something so hideous to something to perfect, so beautiful.

Like the face staring back at him now. Marks of Greyback's appetite and hate marring the once youthful, female face surrounded by blonde curls stained red. Years of watching and experiencing the injuries bequested by the dragons he loved were nothing compared to what his eyes looked upon now prone on the floor. Shrugging off his over-shirt, he covered the silent body to give her some graceful dignity in this moment of horrendous death.

He was straightening up from saying a silent prayer when a glimpse of almost forgotten white blond hair caught his eye. A blond so silvery that it had glowed in the moonlight against his dark sheets. Hair so lush that Charlie after the first time he ran his fingers through it trying to rid it of the leaves and dirt that had accumulated there, wanted to do so much more than feel it on his fingertips - he wanted to bury his nose in it and breath the sweet, albeit masculine, scent he knew had to be there. Even more he wanted to feel it when it was clean and fresh, lay against his chest and tickle his neck.

Charlie took off in the direction of the hair he once so intimately knew.

His mind flashing back to another lifetime where an accidental kiss turned into a stolen one before the person he was hiding within the four walls of his cabin captured his heart and hadn't relinquished his hold on it yet.

The pitter-patter of a late spring rang whispered in his ears as he ran up the stairs desperately attempting to keep the white hair in view. Charlie willed his feet to move faster, his mind descending into warm memories of shared baths and gentle caresses; of the first time they made love - so soft, sweet and gentle that even his own hardened and experienced eyes felt the wave of emotion that sprung tears to his eyes that he fought back though his new found love and lover succumbed to them.

Like a moth, he continued to chase his flame up stairs, down hallways, through doorways until he found himself on top of the Astronomy Tower - his heart, soul, and love standing at the very edge between stone and sky. His beautiful angel ready to spread his wings and fly away from him for good and after months of wondering how he was and if he was still alive, Charlie wasn't ready for him to cross the river nor was he ready to live knowing his angel was dead.

"Draco," he whispered gently, hoping not to scare the trembling figure in front of him into jumping in desperation.

"Why?"

He carefully began to move closer, wanting desperately to pull Draco back from such a dangerous temptation, "Why what?"

"Why are you here?" Draco's voice barely audible as the light rain started to pick up.

"Because I chased you here."

"Why?"

Seeing Draco's foot step up on the parapet in front of him made Charlie's heart skip a beat, quickly he said, "Because I needed to make sure you were okay. That you were alive."

"Why?" Draco replied, pulling his foot away from the parapet to Charlie's relief. He kept his steps soft as he continued to move towards the young man.

"Because my life hasn't been the same since you left. It's been dark and empty. I've missed you," Charlie whispered, his hand now inches from Draco's arm. He wasn't about to confess what he really felt until Draco was safely away from the edge.

One more step and he was able to grab Draco's left arm. Quickly, Charlie pulled the shaking young man back away from the edge and spun the lithe body into his. He wrapped his arms around Draco, holding him tight and whispering in the ear, "But most of all because I love you."

"Why?" Draco choked between gasps.

Charlie could feel hot tears start to run down his neck, but he didn't care. Tonight was the first time in months he had felt alive. He rubbed Draco's back as he whispered, "I don't know, but I do. I love you."

"How can you love me?" Draco wailed into his shirt. "I'm a monster. I'm the spawn of an even bigger monster. I almost let your brother die...again."

"You are not a monster," Charlie whispered, fighting back his own tears. "You are not one, you hear me. You shouldn't have had to make the decisions you made, see what you saw, live what you lived at your age. You did what you had to do to survive - I won't condemn you for that."

"But you should. You should let me go."

"No." The determination in his own voice took Charlie back for a moment before continuing, "I let you go once and that turned out to be the worst decision of my life. I'm not letting you go again."

"Please Charlie," Draco begged. "Please let me go. I'll only destroy your life."

"You not in my life almost destroyed me. I'm not going to stand by and live my life wondering where you are and if you are okay."

"Just let me go and you won't have to," Draco whispered, pulling his head back.

Charlie leaned over and what he saw in the flash of lightning chilled his heart: Draco's warm eyes that plagued his dreams full of lust and need, now were filled with cold and death. His hands immediately went to Draco's face, lowering his face so he could look those eyes that weren't his love's directly and said firmly, "No."

"But -"

"No."

"But -"

"No."

"But..."

"No. Draco. N. O. No." Charlie repeated emphatically.

"Please Charlie...last summer...let it be nothing more than a dream..."

Finally, letting his tears join the falling rain around them he implored, "No, Draco. Last summer was not a dream and I refuse to let it be a memory."

"But why?" Draco whispered.

"Why not Draco?" Charlie replied.

"But I'm not worth it. Your family will -"

"But I think you are. That's what matters Draco. emI/em think you matter."

"Charlie..."

"Please stop fighting me Draco. Just let me take care of you; heal the pain you've gone through; kiss away the tears."

"I just don't understand -"

Charlie sighed and said, "You don't have to. You don't need to understand why I feel the way I do. Just know that I do."

"Char -"

Realizing he had had enough, Charlie pulled Draco's face in and crashed his lips into his; attempting to show Draco exactly what he was saying. He refused to back down when Draco put up a fight at the beginning; he just held the one he loved in place as he continued to kiss him until he felt Draco give up and just kiss him back, clinging to his soaking wet shirt.

When Draco's mouth opened to him, Charlie started to re-familiarise himself with the taste he had missed. He was melting into the responsive body when images flashed of their couplings in his head: the arching of Draco's body when he pressed his tongue into his groin; the moan emitting from his mouth as his teeth pulled at his neck's skin; the squirm of his hips when his tongue teased Draco's erection; the gasp as Charlie took his length into his mouth; the cry of his peak, the sigh of his completion, the sleep of peace.

A peace that enveloped both of them; the one that only came at the completion of one's soul - for they had been born amidst the rain on that early May morn.

_Fin._


End file.
